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January 1, 2001 Monday 

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✦༝ ┉┉ ⋆ (Third Person Point of View)⋆ ┉┉ ༝✦

                THE BOY sat at the back of a police car in silence, his head never once lifting or moving in his place even as the vehicle came to a stop. During the whole ride, not even one sound was made, apart from the noises coming from the engine of the car and booming sounds of fireworks in the distance that light up the night sky like magic. From the city, they drove all the way to a more suburban area. 

A shame, that such a festive night turned tragic. But what's done is done, no-one can reverse the time as much as they begged for it. The police man scratch his stubble beard and kept his mouth shut. He knew better than to strike a conversation with a mourning boy who's covered in blood, besides, he don't know how to comfort a kid who just lost his friend. In respect, he tried to drive slowly to give the boy some time to recollect himself before entering an unknown domain, while fighting the urge of his itching fingers to turn on the radio to remove the uncomfortable atmosphere.

 [M/N]'s appearance in front of the youth detention center made quite a commotion. The boys that are beyond the facilities walls, tried to peek through the barred windows—pushing one another just to see the new inmate drenched in blood. Some even gasp when they recognize him, immediately running back to their room with tails tucked between their legs.

The policeman reluctantly got up his seat and open the door for [M/N]. It's not because he's afraid of the 13 year old, but because it's his umpteenth time visiting this place and dropping off children. 

He guide the broken boy towards the wooden doors of his new home. [M/N] remain unresponsive as the policeman talked to the people in charge or even when they check his body for weapons and such. Although his [E/C] eyes are trailed on the white marble floor, it's hard to miss the guards and teachers in formal wear that march around the reform school's white hallway. They gawk and glare at the peculiar sight of him.

Once done, the policeman took off his metal cuffs and waved at the depressed boy goodbye, even if the said boy paid him no mind. The educator who was assigned to look after the new addition to the many delinquents of the school, gave him a brief glance before motioning [M/N] to follow her. [M/N] is then led to the nearest comfort room to change into his new uniform and shower away the blood.

 [M/N] wordlessly receive the clothes and enter the ivory coloured restroom. He did as instructed, and wash himself clean like a mindless puppet. The shower's metal knob squeak in protest of being turned on, freezing cold water rained on him and he didn't even flinch or hiss from the temperature. He watch as the bone chilling liquid carried away the blood down the drain. If only it was that easy. To drain away all the sadness and anguish he's experiencing in an instant.

He turn the knob off and step out of the showers, patting himself with a soft periwinkle towel—soaking not only the water from his head but also the blood from his injuries. Once he deem himself dry enough, he sluggishly put on the uniform that would forever bind him to his new home.

For the first time that night, he lifted his head only to be greeted by dull [E/C] eyes staring back at him. He scowl at the boy in front of him in disgust. The same boy who promised to protect his best friend only to fail miserably. A fucking failure, that's what he is. [S/T] fist connecting to the boy's face who stood across him.